


Lean not on your own understanding

by Builder



Series: Whoa Bessie [28]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Panic Attacks, Snow, Trans Steve Rogers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29633736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Snow falls.Icicles fall.James falls.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whoa Bessie [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892050
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Lean not on your own understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

They wake Sunday morning to a white blanket of snow covering the ground outside the apartment. The parking lot has yet to be plowed, and it appears it’s still too early for neighbors and kids to disturb the perfect crystalline layer.

“Did you watch the weather last night?” James asks sleepily, looking out the window as he toes around for his slippers.

“No, we were watching Discovery Channel…” Steve opens a drawer and yanks on his fleece-lined jeans, then tosses a pair of warm sweats at James. 

“‘S pretty,” James says as he dresses. 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I hate to disturb it, but we probably need to go find the car.”

“Huh?”

“Under the snow. Pick up the wipers, chip off the ice.” Steve shrugs. “Just in case it gets worse, you know? I don’t know if they’ll cancel work tomorrow, and it’s always good in case of emergency…”

“You and your logic.” James pulls his boots from the closet and looks sideways at Steve. “Tie me up?”

“Sure.”

Once they’re properly swaddled in coats, hats, and gloves, Steve leads the way out to the parking lot, using the ice chipper brush like a conductor’s baton as he hums ‘ode to joy’ out of tune. “I don’t think I’ve had a snow day since we were kids,” he says.

“It’s not a snow day,” James corrects. “It’s Sunday.”

“Is too.” Steve crunches into a snowdrift that comes up past his ankle. “Geez, that’s cold.”

“Ha,” James laughs. “Be grateful it isn’t sand. Burning hot, ten fucking pounds, and rubbing the top of your foot raw.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll take the snow…” Steve swishes his feet to clear a path for James. 

The car is properly buried, with a decent six inches of white cap on its hood and roof. The windshield is snowy as well, and when Steve wipes at it with the brush side of the ice chipper, there’s a semi-transparent layer frozen over it as well.

“Great…” Steve flips the ice chipper and starts in on the hardened frost. He finishes one side and is about to round the car to get to the other when a cold, wet blur explodes in his face.

Steve swears and turns around, wiping at his eyes.

“Sorry, Stevie, my aim sucks,” James laughs.

“Oh, this is how it is?” Steve pulls an armful of snow off the car’s hood and wads it into a loose ball. He throws it in James’s general direction, satisfied when he hears the crunch of freeze against cloth.

“Aw, come on.” James moves further back, toward the apartment wall. Steve grins, drops the ice chipper in front of the car, and follows. He sprints as best he can, dragging his hand to pick up snow as he goes. Once Steve has a decent ball, he lobs it at James, who holds his arm in front of his face to block.

Steve’s snowball hits James in his stump shoulder, and he stumbles. His arm shoots out to the side to balance him out, and his hand finds the paneled wall of the apartment building. He doesn’t seem to catch himself, though, for soon after his hand hits, so does his elbow, then his shoulder. 

Then, before Steve can get a handle on what’s happening, there’s an earsplitting crack, and a shower of shimmering blue-grey something tumbles down in front of, and seemingly on top of, James. James yelps, and Steve runs full speed again, desperate to get back to his side.

“Buck?” Steve skids in on his knees and grabs James’s shoulder. Ice is everywhere, broken into pieces of various sizes that litter the ground and stick to James’s hair and clothes. 

James doesn’t respond. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his arm wraps protectively around his upper chest. His breath is shallow and fast, and Steve’s willing to bet his heart rate is skyrocketing as well.

“Ok, ok,” Steve murmurs, using his arm to brush away some of the ice chips. A full-on icicle sits in the nook between James’s arm and chest, and Steve grabs it and tosses it over his shoulder. “I think it’s ok. I think the roof just threw up ice all over you…” 

James still doesn’t say anything. He opens his eyes a crack, then parts his dry lips. His breathing doesn’t slow.

“Bucky.” Steve settles himself in the snow in front of James and gently takes his cheek in one hand. “It’s ok.”

James responds by jerking back, sputtering.

“Alright, too cold.” Steve withdraws his hand. “I”m sorry.” He shifts on his knees. “Do you think I can get you inside?”

“Hm.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s an affirmative; Steve’s going to take it that way. He weaves his arm under James’s and pulls him to his feet. James drags his boots, but doesn’t protest as Steve helps him toward the front door. 

By the time they get there, James’s face is white as the snow, and it’s tinged grey around the temples and chin. 

“You sick?” Steve asks.

James shakes his head.

“You sure?”

“Nothing in me,” James mutters.

He has a point. They had gone out before breakfast. Before coffee even.

“Do you want some tea?” Steve asks. “Something to warm you up?”

James shakes his head.

“What about meds?”

“They make me feel weird.”

“Ok…” Steve unzips James’s jacket and helps him out of it. Then he removes his own and tentatively puts his arm around James’s shoulders. “This ok?”

James nods. “Warm is… good.”

“What do you want?” Steve asks. “What can I do?”

James looks at him sideways. “Do we, um. Still have the Fireball from New Years?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies, raising his eyebrows. “That’ll make you plenty warm.”

James nods. “That’ll be good, then.”

“You want me to let you drink yourself sick, like back in the college days?” Steve cracks a grin.

“I don’t know about that… Might be too old…”

“As long as you let me have a shot, you do whatever you want,” Steve says, relieved at least that James seems to be calming down.

“Sure.” James nods. He leans in so his head rests on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Steve says softly. “I get the bottle, you get the glasses?”

“Ok.” James doesn’t pull away. “Thanks,” he whispers. “This is good.”


End file.
